| THE INTEGRITY PAPERS | Poetics | ceptualinstitute.com |
2022 Copyrights ceptualinstitute.com
Feb 1965
He just sat there quietly
and gazed into yesterday.
It was almost
as if he were trying to metamorphasize
himself
out of some vague past
into some
vaguer future.But what swamped his mind
with a curious awareness
and in a humorously surprising way
was the .... detail .... with which the pictures
of his past f l o w e d to his
( quiet eyes )."Out of things seen, I can make a world,
But out of things unseen, I can make a universe (!) "
1966. To the Venus de Milos ~ at Le Louvre
Who is the man, Sweet Venus,
who drew you from your sunken home,
to make your face an everyface and world?Is it your face, your form, we praise?
Or yet, his skill ?Death has long since placed her hand upon his lips
and one day of eternity will see her Grace on you.
But, till that time, will passions rise and struggle on
to gain a time to watch you for themselves?
Alone
with you and Love?Or is it He they seek?
The man who is your body and your soul?The one who felt your touch and cried each night.
An artisan perhaps? Or better yet,
mechanic at his trade.
The matter was to merely have you done
and cleansed of excess stone.
Another.
Like tomorrow or the day before.
His eyes an azure blue ... or silken brown,
they rivalled thoughts and visionary dreams
and saw you come alive beneath his hammer tap.
Was this the passion of his breath? ... his music
come with colors, tones, and turns ...
the shape of flesh as his to give?
Is it he they come to see...
this man without a Name (and thus, without a Soul?).Or model?
An imitated form ... a copy of Her life.
The one they dream to touch and hear and hold.
The music they can listen to with longing hearts and eyes
across that span of time
the heart can wing beyond
to feel
to know?Who are you ? What?
The Beauty that they see.I see in you what you are not.
The age you were created in ... and years that passed between.
I see the valiant men,
whose armor ... pierced,
lie bleeding on the ground ... crushing violets and olive blooms
which we, the living, re-arrange (transform the pain).
...we have not changed since you were born!Season fell to season
and we too.
Until new thoughts and senses
claimed each day.
You are a product of Love and Hate.
I see that in you.
From primal boiling quags of rock:
I see Adonis and Moses,
the Parthenon, the burlesque house,
the obelisque in Central Park
the streets of traffic
and Firenze's sculptured David...
or are you Lisa?
or are you "He"?
No. They come to see themselves.
When they see you
in that museum.
Saved from ruin.
Saved from the forces of the world ....
a world that is but what you are!It is quiet down that long corridor's walk.
That place where sense has been preserved.
A place where the Universe can look upon itself
.... and Know:
eons on eons.....until the light finally goes on.
April 1966
The single flower pushes through the hilltop
and I can see it from my window.
It is the first one this Spring,
while bare trees and ragged grass set a different mood
around.
But there it is.
Coming out while the weather's still too cold.
Following the incessant prodding urge of nature.
Blooming as it has to,
the first one.
Alone, not alone,
it doesn't matter.
It is the first one. That is important.
Others will come...but that is for later.
There it is, among everything.
And I think it will be the first to die, too.
I think I will mourn more for it, than for all the others.
And more than anyone else could mourn...or
understand.
October 1968.
I write the song of life.
Of chance, in the hands of determination.
Of children, unchanged by years,
merely tempered by experience
and aged by private suppositions.
Dour and Joyful in equal moments
but definitely unequal in passions.
Somewhere, the non-descript make
noises, then sounds, then words
and ideas. And the non-descript
transform to faces and fate,
breathing happiness and strife
that etches meticulous distinction.
So that through the course of years
they come to be known by the
mark of a name, called upon
by other names ... and most importantly,
calling out to others, who hear
or do not hear ... but addend the
exquisite lines of transformation.
The forces, the guides, that make our lives.I capture within my mind the fragrance of memories:
the sweetness of flesh, the powers of desire
the delights of my eyes, fulfillment of love.
Disappointments, when daylight shed no new light
to assuage the sorrowing grief
inhumanity or intolerance.
But.... re-living, too, all the delights
of compassion, and caring moments,
when souls touched with that quiet
impulsive intensity that sparks reality and life.
And in the morning
when we get the chance to walk
silently together down some
damp birch aired twisty wooded path ...
with sunlight teasing through the mist
and trickling without a sound
down, down, down through the branches and leaves
exploding in autumn golds and moss greens and auburn
browns
and making the air fragrant
with shades and soft textures,
We speak not a sound but talk in silence
with our arms
around each other
and the slow rush of air through
our bodies that have become one perfect
body......we, us, now, timeless, always,
as we walk silently, listening
to ourselves for the first time.
Whatever that temporary transience is
that each of us is when we are alone
vanishes into oblivion now when we're together.
No longer trapped by the tenuous boundaries of our skin.
That, my love, is why I love you.
You have freed me from the binding fetters of isolation.
Given me a range a depth
that breathes visions of Eternity.
I live a life outside the one I've always known.......
February 1969.
Poetics is a poor way to say "I love you".
But I am richer for it.You gave me the need to write.
September 1969.
Alone,
I remember time.
Slowly moving, never stopping, time.
The world was filled with it.
And things were made of it.
Objects (quiet) were alive with it.
And friends, companions, were the voice of it.
Time - the little moment "now" that
can't be saved.
Just felt - anticipated
- noted -
then passed by.
My memory of time, as time felt now, in time of
memory:
Knowing time as everything...to be, and of, and was, and will.
Time...that we can only know as death and life...as color sound and touch.
Sleek strong Bengal Tiger in the morning brush.
Waking. Cool besides the waters moving slowly Time.
Crack !! the bullet crashing branches striking bleeding ...
Eyes look up in anguished disbelief ...
that from your soul comes forth lamenting moaning
l o n g
the filling wail that reaches all the
world's sad ears
Your cry:
"Remember time!"
that nothing is unreal as felt in life and world
"r e m e m b e r T i m e . . . "
The echo wail that never leaves my mind -
I see you die. in Time.
The slow methodic drift of mixing smoke
is time.
The woven blanket, warm,is real
as time.
The turbulent and huffing gusts of storm
mark time.
The ice of snow of winter has the feel
of time.
The sex of love to give a child life
is time.
And Universe - as swirls of stars evolving moving . . .
. . . meld . . . . in Time.
Time is.
And needs us not. Does not rely on anything to BE.
All consuming and enveloping, becomes, and is, the One
existing Time.
That here, alone, within my mind
reminding me
that once
there was a thing called . . .
Time.
August 23 1970
Crying harmonies
chordant lives
swirling songs
mystic worlds
Lifted my dreams
beyond my hopes
opened my eyes ... to reach on distant lights
passions ... delicate ... touched reality
(this, the only truth, we lie to hide)Sensitive warmth.
fingertips communicate (they know life)
I feel the air...rush through my body...give me blood...swelling pulse.
Force that makes my dreams. Needed. Strived.
(which, without, I die the deaths of all the ages)
(which, without, "I" will not die)
And I want that death.
dearly, sweetly, strongly.
As I want my life.Majestic crest
Standing, facing outward on a high and seaward cliff.
wind and tall grass
wind that blows my hair
grey spray
eyes breathing Time
air of woven misty looms
echo worlds fluid vails
clothed by Life.
Spawned by cosmos world within world.
(the tips of fingers touch they know Life).
Dimensions fill the absolute.
Vacuum ... of itself.
"All" recreates. (Urobic dream).
The germ of sensation:
"...and they went forth, two by two"Point (geometric loci) Universal.
Self procreates Self
Wondrous mystery! What compares !?!
Striving through blindness: callous fear (my guide).
We are Life's poem. It ... ours!
Touch the tips of fingers . . . touch!
Minds become conjoined (they know life) ....That is where to find love. Did you know?
August 24 1970.
Castle builder
what's the mortar that you use?Fine thoughts
bundled daydreams
captured fancies
daily muse?Plastic wishes
crystal concepts
milkweed trifles
stolid hopes?Fluid mayhem
seabound starlight
pampered whispers
midnight envelopes?Simple maxims
twine wrapped secrets
vaulted heart beats
muslin tears?Supple cobwebs
scalloped twilight
shadowed ladies
dashing cavaliers?Castle builder
What's the mortar that you use?
Can we feel, to find
true substance of this world
that souls suffuse?Yes, the mortar Master Craftsman
What's the substance of your trade?
Are the things that I feel
Really
Truly
Of the stuff that dreams are made?
1971
My story is History
for it concerns the pride of life.
It is a story of Act
for it is the process of existence.
I am a descendent of man
A child of gods and ghosts.
I am my heritage and my posterity
for, though time places boundaries on my time of breathing
I am limitless for existing.
Nikolai is my name, and Umberto, Li Chiang,
Phillipe, Avrom, Raoul, Jean-Paul, Twala, Gustav,
Giovanni, Democritus, Thessaloneus, Robert,
Sun Lo, Strega, Muir, . . .
July 1971.
There is an undying, incorruptible
and pervasive belief
knowing feeling
that is consciously with me every moment.
That Life believes in itself
and produces its future as an exquisite act of love.
And that love it shares with itself
by having it flow back and forth
from each of us
to each other
and back again
in rhythm and flow
in caring and sharing
in giving and taking
in knowing and believing
in learning and teaching
in guiding and nurturing
in acceptance and accepting
in patience and desire
as pulsing waves of energy
spreading and reinforcing.
July 20 1971.
I spill out the happenstantial thoughts of solitude
and banter with myself the pros and cons of standards.
Inspired by memories and instinct
I decry importance on the commonplace
and blind myself to insincerity and usurer's abuse.
Madness is defined by itself
content within the framework
of a sanguine sanctuary.
Disavowing hysterical blindness in neighbors
and breeding a lifestyle not worth the talk.
Nothing outstanding except an idea
that an idea itself should be enough
to live by
and for.
That full realization, full involvement
in an idea
is the most important act a person can make.
I am committed to my ideas
and I say they are important enough
to be communicated
for all the implications and facets they convey.
I am not resolved to the age I live in.
So I demand that my ideas be compatible
with all ages...
that I understand and become part of All time
that ever was that ever will be.
The pith of humanity's soul is transfigured
by but a few
of its children.
Expressed in words and music and art
we cannot help but be touched
by their phrasing of life.
Cannot help but respond
As they spread our lives on the breadth of the world
and tell us not only who, but also what,
we are.
To me, they are One Mind
speaking out reaching out
for the sheer joy of speaking, of reaching.
Communicating moments
where we cannot communicate lifetimes;
and lifetimes,
when moments fail us.
But does greatness ever recognize itself
when it inhabits another body?
I don't think so.
And even if it could, would it respond?
I think not, either.
For our mark of genius, yes, even its own mark,
is untarnished individuality,
so deeply embedded in the heart of the earth and societies
that Aloneness and Totality
are inseparable.
October 16 1971.
Carried through the night sky.
Crystal winds.
August 1 1972.
If I could sing a song to you
it would be filled with life felt joy
and billow bursting happiness
like flash of light
that trans-ascends
the all too present strictures
of our words.And I would sing in you perfection
simply just as it is there
in compassing, in being
wondrous, beautiful in grand complete conception
alluring pure.
Wisp, a fleeting tenuous libation
being so to tipsy mind
and make us wont to dream
and want to strive
that for an instant
value-pleasure coincides with is and life
we flow and are the touch of real
the coral choraled swirling whirl.
This is the song that I would sing to you.
If I could sing a song to you,
somnambulant, I'd lift your soul
on wings of flying eyes
flash bright light
high around the world,
wind rush
just to hear the temple bells
in Himalayan universe,
red velvet in the golden morning,
castling our minds
with moods of rare sensate
and re-awake the auburned
palm scent air
and taste the ecstacy
of life in figs of sweet and succulent sublime.
Song.
Melody of unapproachable array
this is
the song,
kaleidoscope orchestral brilliance,
song
that I would sing to you.
If I could sing a song to you
I would cascade you with the eons and the years
and teach you awe is kin
to vast immeasuring immensity
whose son is mystery
and daughter, wonder.
Timeless long enduring
vision purities
and fascination savoring the delicate melange
of sight and touch.
Song.
A softly scented pillow for the mind
this is
the song
enveloping in colors soothing sounds
song
that I would sing to you.
If I could sing a song to you
then even Columbine could not command
the universe to happiness.
And if he tried
it still would pale
beneath the glorious majestic grandeur
of your smile.
For gods and muses
have bestowed on us
that sacred place
that special private
realm of bliss
that has no equal
no aspirant
in this world.
Beloved of one
this is the song that I would sing to you.
Song
that strides the mountain peaks
this is
the song
that glides the ocean depths
song
that I would sing to you.
If I could sing a song to you
I'd conjure caravans
of laden dromedares
and silk veiled maidens
offered Persian kings,
heady fragrances of myhrr,
and rhapsodies
that carry Spring throughout the seasons of the year.
Song.
My miracle, my happiness, my joy
this is
the song
my love, d'amour, de coeur
song....that I would sing to you.If I could sing a song to you
then canopies of flowers
would adorn your world
in colors wild and vibrant warm
their scents caressing light
upon your senses and your mind.
Realizing dreams the sunbright days
flowing soft a skin caress at night
this is the song that I would sing to you.
Song.
The mystic heart of spirit soul
this is
the song
the brilliant joy of passioned life,
Song.....
That I do sing to you !
February 1973.
Man is as the earth
sharing each the strength of new life
sharing each the winds of violence and change
sharing each the hours
sharing each momentous daystouching each the water-rain, the ocean flow, the wind caress
touching each the moods of love in heart and mind
touching each the mixture swirl of laughter and remorse
touching each endearing one another we ourselves
feeling each our skin held close to skin
breath upon breath
love upon love
eyes and visions
the endless rising falling tumbling spinning upward out
drenched methodic reaching
spreading out the tree the hand the mountain
Hope!
Thank you for being alive, my Love,
and Real!
Orange auburn crimson
sweet persianwood world
Laughing blue
cool happiness.
Don't say "no", just because we "are"
Teach me I will learn
Talk words I will listen
Touch I yearn to feel
Meld I will open wide the world I know
to you
for you
Look love, love
Woman warm pulse heart exquisite touching sharingQuickly ! Slowly ! Before we disappear! man is as the earth (!)
January 1974.
Her first thoughts reached across the distance of the great planet and embraced his mind while he still slept. A penetration. No barriers now. He must know her without the fear of intrusion. Without the time consuming images he would create, to meet her on his own terms, with his self indulgent comforts to protect him. His feelings looked up. No fear. If anything, the very heart of anticipation. His feelings turned to gaze, and gaze again. The fullness the tenderness of first thoughts.
He reached out in equal measure and erased the distance of the great planet from her mind, as each soul took a breath of the other. Drawing deeply from the single wellspring. And the images of the tenth thought here merged with the sixth there, and the twentieth and the hundredth and the full range of thoughts each needed to share and to share. She designed the scene and asked for his mood, He showed waves of color. Some he held still in time, others, he moved forward or backward with their change or importance. She swept the vision around and retained the mood items and some of the particulars. For four times she did this, once at his behest. Appearances had significance, proximity and motion, hue and proportion, tone and fourth thought (insightful awareness linked with prescience). Their conversation went on like this for all the time it took to course and recourse the textured depths of their lives.
Past and future, places real and not, colors real and not, energies, intensities, all things to share worlds and plans. A panorama to express a single special relationship, a glimpse to guide cultures. They see-sawed action and realm, they melded as one. They made conscious what they had conceived universes ago.
Expressing and listening became singular for them. I. One idea one thought one feeling one sense. Purpose with Time. And time, and time, endless time.
She felt a hand touch his shoulder and prepared to fade away as the whispers were about to come to conscious form. He looked at her and they entwined their senses and moods in total concentration of each other. Slowly, then , slowly , he turned his face to awakening light , his left hand trailing outstretched behind him to hold her image near , evaporating , distant dream . . . .
April 1974.
Every one that I know and meet -
we are all family - and more -
we are one soul of creative intention
attending in midwifery
the birth of humankind
from womb earth
into life
universe
We shall see
10,000 dawn years
until our
obligations are fulfilled
and even then
our mind of union and soul
will see cosmic glorification
We know forever
for we are the spirit:
Time.
We know forever
for we are the vision:
Space.We know:
Forever !
April 1974.
In unity from unity to unity
Never
should all seem bleak
and the void consummate
let the light fail
The Universe does not fail
in creating
life as itself
Should we then
ever
in our coming, sustaining, going and coming again
relinquish that
which we are ?Cherish the children
each one of us, as we are the hope
we are the fruit and the seed
exploring in brilliancy and life
the being of life
and knowledge
Never Forget.
April 1974.
To my companions I write this song.
Never forget that you are
the flow of everlasting life universe.
That you are is that universe is.
Never in your memory forget this.
Never quest if it is not for synergy,
syntropy of strength
union in energy.
To Masai and Scheschwann and Romani
and all the others whose faces and names
are dear to my being:
The children, the offspring and the beautiful progeny.
The most precious and rare
preserve them
for life
Finely delicate and strong flowers
who will
mature
and be
beautiful adults.
They
are the heritage and posterity
in one being
They
are reason enough if reason is needed
to survive.
Reason for life exists without us
for it is
us
as we are the generations
of matter
in the universe
Reason is reason
for it is
matter
in that it does matter energy in creation
July 5 1978.
My sons & daughters are my
brothers and sisters
We are mutual creation
in the wholeness of our lives
Thank you for our hands held together
and our laughing arms
enwrapped around our waists
and draped in glorious warm hugs
around each others shoulders
Do you feel this beautiful rush of wind
as we sprint with breathless anticipation
to the future ?
Damn it feels good !
My friends my lovers my companions
Look !
Our future is as now and billions of years
and Oh, how bright it shines !Take a deep breath and draw in life
that all but explodes your existence away.
Its gift is more life and more.
July 10 1978.
Sing high, you, who are my life
Sing brilliant loving, you, my heart and light.
The morning greets us now.
in warmth and caring
holds us upward to the sky, the soaring birds
that sail wind-clouds and sun-flow air :
Hope and caring sweet.
The world is fresh anew.
Oh, world,
you blue green globe,
my love and I are here,
your sense and soul,
to care for gardens, bodies bold and fresh
all pulsing life, spread the fullest skin
all plants and creatures, cloak the wide -
the wide,
to reach as mind and hand, and touch our destiny,
abroad the vast of space & time - we, my love & I
become posterity
and future dreamed forever - now.
Good life ! Oh, Morning !
How my love and I, we sing our bodies close
and closer as enraptured ecstacy to fuse without recourse
or moments rest our flesh as one. Good Life ! Oh Morning !
Love, you are my life. Tight we hold
and play-caress all warm and wet,
sensations tingle rush of life our sinews bones and flesh enmeld and merge. We suck each others breath into our own. Good Life ! Oh Morning ! Oh my love. Now we, now we, now we, we love, and love, and greet the world in turn !
My Beautiful Love - Good Morning !!!!
July 12 1978 (C)
In spite of all the stained glass years
the weathered miles and all the fragrant
color forms.
It's our joy of life to know our selves
and laugh the spectrum
far and wide.
Conscious fire, conscious fire we
sing our song of love.
Oh Morning glory - nurture, satisfy our
thirst in cool flow water blue
mountain brilliance - how good it
feels !! succors needs, revives our
strength. Oh sweet glory, morning ! ! !
Day bright shine the journey onward.
We pick our path, and step fore - to
see our choice, and not to look behind.
Our souls will be our memory....
and Lives to come in worlds to be.
We travel faster than time now
absorbing distances
That fade and disappear.....
July 20 1978
The wind whistled cold & chill
oh tomorrow you can't arrive
too soon - come years - come
ages & generations - quick
I will see you live.
fix my eyes upon the silver starsand reach beyond.
July 28 1978.
I love to share with you.
To open my heart & soul
all my knowing and feeling
flow between us
The beautiful understanding and oneness
that all the universe yearns for.
There shall be such a oneness between you
that when one cries
the other shall taste salt.
There shall be such a oneness between you
that when one laughs
the other shall know joy.
April 1980
AARON SPOKE BECAUSE MOSES STUTTERED
MOSES SPOKE WITH GOD
AARON SPOKE WITH THE PEOPLE
MOSES GOT US TO THE RIVER
AARON MADE SURE WE GOT OVER
MOSES WAS DENIED CANAAN
AARON TASTED MILK AND HONEY
MOSES SAW ISRAEL AS THE ARROWS OF GHIBRAN
ECSTATIC PAIN
ECSTATIC JOY
LETTING THE FUTURE BECOME
JESUS SAW ISRAEL AS ISRAEL SAW MOSES
ECSTATIC PAIN
ECSTATIC JOY
LETTING THE PAST GO
MATURATION IDENTITY
STYX AND CLONES MAY BREAK OUR BONES
AFFIRMED SELF ASSURANCE ENOBLES OUR FUTURE
April 12 1980.
Come, now
Beowulf -
Pride of worlds
For sake of generations
Passioned glories !!
Boiling blood
that conquers seas & hills
Sword swift - Joy in struggle
you birth new minds and hearts
the star light glistens beneath
the crimson from hilt to point
As life
forever onward:
Pride of Worlds
For sake of generations :
moves.
Come, now
Posterity (ah, Beowulf)
Substance by Deed
Substance by Memory
En-wrap-tured raptured words of substance
in form : substantial sub-stanza-yal
sub-limb-inal
& Rhythm-al even
on this day
we flow
Love of life
Defense of kindred souls
Glory praise
Son of Egthow.
Oh nurtured pith -- irresistable flow, flower rare
even do you dream the vast reality of who you are ?????
We do -- and raise the toast to you . . .
. . . to us . . . . . . to Always !!
We are Life's poem. It, ours.
Pride of worlds.
For:
sake of generations.
ET STELLAE. ET PAX.
August 26 1980
There is a reason
That the world shines with the brilliant passion of sunlight.
In awakening each dawn.
The discovery of hidden love that
grew in darkness and yearned to greatness.
That longed to reach around the world and through the skies
Like fingers searching through the clouds
along the mountain slopes and stretched
beneath the rolling tossing ocean depths.
Between the green and verdant leaves
around the trunks of towering trees
within the tender close held petals
flowers lush in blossom rich with seeds
of life in each and every being - plant or breast
in endless dance of longing, searching, dance of breath
of life of ghosts of death and life again.
Exuberant the joyousness of being pulsing giving loving
holding touching listening sensing knowing sharing.
Coming one with each and with each other.
Taking in with stretching chests the air and life
of other lives and worlds.
We "know" without a clue to how
it entered in our beings or
from what brave channel forged
in steel as strong as vapored fog
in bonds and links that never break or fail.
Those moments in knowledge we became become
before the moment's flesh arrived.
You are here within my being never absent from my life
my soul my thoughts my knowing.
And as I am strong and give to you
so you return the joy and life to me.
You are my adored my exultation. You.
The blend of soul and mind and form.
Heart that succors crevasses and folds
places which were in my life once devoid.
as-we-find-no-line-to-ever-separate-our-life-together.
November 11 1992.
"Memories and thoughts" I pondered on long hours. And this is my perception respectfully presented for thought:
As we receive the sharings of the world (words, images, sounds & light & touch) it triggers responses in our being .... a search, a groping, a seeking, a looking for within . . . of things, experiences, gone past. Within. And within a flash of an instant more speedingly perfected as we go along our lives we find we link we join we compare and verify the intake with who we are and what the message coming in might mean and are the thoughts, the memories, found within the right ones to use to make response?... we judge and valuate our plan of reaction and judge and valuate results and keep what's deemed good and search again if satisfaction is not found.
And all, all in the fraction of a moment of a second. We receive, we process, we link, we organize and reorganize our perceptions of what is with what was with what is with what (might) will be. And as we express (respond), our words (thoughts) become our own reinforcing reflexive "new incoming stimuli" (and thereon rests Volition...but that is another part of the story).
And so. I propose this simple pun and play on words. To signify the actions and energy. To express a purpose to it all. To show the path that spreads with all the stochastic process of Heisenberg - yet produces causal links, continuums:
Reverse Extrapolative CAusaLity Lattice
R E C A L L
It is how "mentality" works. We think "backward" in order to live "forward". An endless interplay of reticulated processing loops that "feed" forward linear data into our responses. But, that data was retrieved by going forward...into our past....backward...into that great vault of hologrammed and chemically stored bank of memories. Choices, evaluations, are our essence in this form of existence.
I see the "energy forms" of the universe....But first and foremost, there is "information". Because information is any variance/difference, any distinction/distinctiveness. Such as: from one "instant" to the next one "place" distinct from any other "place" whether there is "energy" or not. The Universe is information. It is knowledge. It is wisdom.
Is that clear ? ..... think about it !
November 20 1992.
I Ch'ing
runes of bone oracle circlic orbic ores
find the rhythm flows of old as sprinkled stardust
on the floors of hearths of hearts to light
OUR SOULS
*
And in the mystery of it all we see that
> > > MOTION * * * * BECOMING > > > says it all *
a hand an ear an eye that clasps the meaning
to its breast is there and here
the first dynamic step approach that makes it clear
for when we listen for that sound existing free beyond
our self important lives well then we can become
much more
in Life's Love
there are no bounds
It takes but this: fear not your self!
And find that
what's "within" is all around you 'round about !!!!
In peace and calm or even lust explore > > >
but any where you roam (remember) TO the center where
your BEING links the silver chord Return once more.
It is the Home of Spirit inward faced.
There is the doorway to the rest: the human race.
Yourself AsOne InOne
AmongOne
there is but One.
Struggling like a metamorphe to wrestle free from clinging
underbrush to sledge a hole
so pierce confining shell
We think:
energy and force will win the day. hold back ! Effort (yes)
Force (no)
For we can glide as mists through iron gates
when FIRST we trust our "being" in this world!
Look IN ...... find OUT !!!
Find OUT ...... within !!!
>>>
Friends-companions-we:
As is the Earth As is the Sky
As is the Cosmos
OUR HEARTS ALIVE.
November 23 1992.
Sit calmly Close your eyes Deep s l o w
breaths
bring the light to the centerhold it there
.
listen to the laughter
soft and far away
remember it is your own voice you hear
It lingers reverberates forever
In your soul FOR EVER !
November 25 1992.
Sometimes it seems as life and events unfold
that our souls precede us in Time.
By moments by days by years by lifetimes
our lives are as much a "catching up" as they are
"realization" of Becoming.
The smallest moment is a deja vu. The largest is
Satisfaction.
Lives lived well. True to their being.
December 4 1992.
Enthusiasm flies out amongst the Void...............
and trailing, leaves behind:
a Creating Embellishing
Transforming
the Nothing in to
Brilliant Color Swirlings
Noise Resounding Cordants IS and OF and WAS and
EVERMORE !!!!
Give me
credit, blame, whatever your heart desires !
But never for the twink of an instant think
I never was ! I will not evaporate !
save at my own soul's behest !
We. Borne to BE.
Lavishing rhythms inside us and outside and through !
Here! hold my hand in yours and with companion others...
Stretch! till arms and fingers reach the very gates
of S P A C E a n d
T I M E !
There out there in
the void
beyond all imaginings
and
make it ours!
As resonating softly slowly
from flesh'ed tips
outstretched
across the arms lengths of eternity across
each quivering breast
across by skin entwined
and
onwards more along the other
outstretched
pulsing to the end of (
) and back again
endless endless endless resolve ====>
Sweet, the Universe ! Our mordant souls are yet resplendant in
your Glory (!)
Recognizing the beauty that we are ....
Recognizing beauty .... that we may not be
yet
and still,
it fills our hearts !...... that Beauty
(such !)
does EVEN EXIST (!) in world and time ...
Nuances of being ...
relying on each other for Creating
for in turn:
"And
the Oneness......in order to be truly ONE....had but break
itself into a billion billion billion
billion pieces. Otherwise
is could not see itself it's self
for true !!!"
To be a part is yet to be together
To be together is yet to be a part.
here now today tomorrow raise your arms spin slowly your self around out beyond all space
and time and know :
. . . . as you are touching All All is touching You. (!)
Ode to a Vanishing Point
The Point of these discussions is oh so frail indeed
Just when you think you "see" it
It "vanishes" complete.
Or rather, should I say we start with "double" takes
(the things that norm' come last);
Reverse the order ... START with two co-linear ...
"parallel" paths!
For then, out at ..........INFINITY ...... the "point" appears at last !!!
And out beyond our vision ... we see !
(beyond our
grasp).
But fear not, gentle warriors, in the Battle for Clear Minds,
These convoluted caperings just help us pass The Time.
And like the Jabber-Wock who strolled
Along the beachy-sea,
Twas "infinity" beneath his feet
(where ever he did see).
Uncountable grains jibed tender soles
As poddingly he went
As his brain did valiant wrastlings
To understand this .... God's foul fowl jest.
And .... the reason why ... there is this or that
And, of course, of : "was" "will be".
And oh my dear, a quaff of beer
Might help us more plainly see!!!!
So, into the soup ( or fray ) my dears
Whatever be your pleasure
Except as musings (wandering here)
Some things are beyond our measure.
Twas briley in Deo's design
that we be "less than" her/him
And save for some twinkly twist of Being (hidden in his/her grin)
We might just never know it all! . . . .
. . . . just where "the point" begins!
Or: where it ends
or where it goes or has it
Umpteen umpteen toes
Oh round the Universe we goes
Spinning ever ever so
A tizzy wizzy whirly twirl
until the light goes on.
A crucial skill we all must master
In this worldly place of lathe and plaster:
Wheeling .... (tooling as Sapiens do
to even get 'round to market)
We won't get a License to travel Space and Time
Until we can parallel park it !!!!!
A Ceptualist Ditty by 1992
| Top of Page |
THE INTEGRITY PAPERS (LINKS TO CEPTUAL READINGS)
GENRE WORKS (OTHER WRITERS)
POETICS
MINDWAYS (LINKS TO GLOBAL THINKERS)